I decide to walk across the street to K-Mart to procure a small space heater and a bottle of bleach. I could drive to a more civilized place, but I'm not into the holiday traffic.
As I head towards the heaters in the basement there's an old woman cancelling the purchase she just made and the store guy's trying to explain to her that since she bought whatever it was on credit it would be refunded in credit, not actual money. This doesn't seem to be sinking in.
Looking at the open cash registers I notice that a few employees are keeping the lights off on their registers in order to avoid being so busy. Which to choose? The register where the employee is absent and customers scan the store for a sign of their return - or - the register with the woman with the overflowing cart of paper products... Toilet paper, paper towels, paper napkins... The rule in these places is that no matter how good the situation in a line might look, you're damned no matter where you go. I go one register over and start whistling Dixie - not figuratively, actually, whistling Dixie...
About four feet in front of me is a podgy boy of about five or six - unnaturally podgy - grabbing onto his sisters head with both hands - she looks to be about four - and he keeps mumbling something that sounds like, "Brains! Brains!" He does this over and over.
What I assume to be their "parents" are just a couple of feet in front of me. The father is podgy as well and seems to be sporting some sort of greasy mullet variant. He is holding what looks like three or four packages of bed linens. The wife, silent, looking depressed is very much pregnant.
Have these people ever heard of birth control? They don't look like overly devout Catholics or like freaky evangelists.
The parents take no notice of what I assume to be their children. They have some sort of whispered exchange and the bemulleted one throws the packages of bed linens on the floor and walks for the door. The children are still busy playing whatever zombie pretend game... The wife kicks the packages back in line and stands there. The mullet heads back.
At this point I'm wondering if I'll have to head with witnessing some base display of domestic violence.
It's their turn in line and the mullet puts the packages up on the counter. The UPC codes get scanned and the wife pays for the goods. They walk out the door and I start to put my stuff on the counter. The little girl is still standing there leaning against the counter staring in the direction of her presumed parents. It takes her fifteen or twenty seconds to realize they've gone out the door and finally walks off after them.
I hear the beep of my UPC code being scanned. "Would you like the extended warranty for and extra $4.95?"
"No thanks."
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